Bowman shook his head. ‘If I went cold turkey, I’d get the shakes. You don’t know what that feels like. It’s the worst thing in the world. I can’t even begin to describe how much it hurts. Addicts – people like me – we’d do anything to avoid withdrawal.’

Loader looked closely at him. ‘How bad is it right now?’

‘I’ve been in darker places.’

‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’

Bowman said, ‘I’ve got pills. Enough to last me the rest of the day. As long as I get a regular hit, I’ll be able to function.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I can handle the firefight. I won’t let anyone down.’

Loader stared at him for a long moment. There was anger in his eyes, but something gentler, too. The concern of an old friend.

‘You can’t go on like this, Josh.’

‘I realise that.’

‘We shouldn’t even be having this discussion. I should go straight to John with this. He’d hit the roof if he found out.’

‘Somehow,’ Bowman said, ‘I think he already knows.’

Loader’s face screwed up. ‘Why would John bring you on to the Cell, if he thought you had a drug problem?’

‘I don’t have a clue. But there’s something about the way he talks to me. Like he sees right through the bullshit.’

‘John don’t miss much,’ Loader agreed. ‘But he might see things differently if he found out you were snorting pills when you should have been protecting the family. He’d boot you off the Cell.’

‘You’re probably right. And I’d deserve it.’ Bowman’s head hung low. ‘I’m sorry as fuck about what happened to that girl and her old man, believe me. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m going to get better. I promise.’

Loader looked at him, tight-lipped, his eyes as narrow as knife slashes.

‘Why should I believe you?’ he asked after a beat.

‘I’ve kicked the pills before,’ Bowman said. ‘I can do it again. As soon as this op is over, I’ll go clean.’

‘You could start now.’

‘I can’t, Tiny. I’d get the shakes if I tried. I’d be no use to anyone in a firefight then. But if you give me a chance, I’ll get my head sorted once we’re out of here.’

Loader kept on staring at him. His face was a picture of indecision. Torn between his loyalty to Mallet and his sympathy for an old friend. Then his face appeared to relax, and he tapped a finger against his chin.

‘I’ve heard about these ceremonies,’ he said. ‘Down in Peru. People go there to take ayahuasca. My missus told me all about them. Mary’s always reading the news. Got a brain on her, she does,’ he added proudly.